Tag Archives: jesus

JESUS (motioning to the cross he lugs as he bleeds and sweats): "Carry?" KERRY (lost in thought about ketchup): "Yeah, that's me."

I completely forgot about the occasion. Then something reminded me, then being reminded reminded me of a poem I wrote. You may have read it in the 2008 edition of a college lit magazine. If not:

If It Exists, Me and My Dirty Feet Are Going to Hell

My feet are so dirty from walking around the city all day in flip-flops.
A chunk of tar got jammed in the back of them and the heel of my
foot looks like Christians’ foreheads on Ash Wednesday.

Ash Wednesday was always my least favorite obligatory
church-going day. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…”
I haven’t been to church in ages. Mom used to ask me to
go with her again, but on Easter Sunday she didn’t.
“And back to dust you shall return.”

Probably because I told her how I don’t like
the Book of Genesis. It’s so sexist. I told her it
sucks that Eve’s supposed transgression tainted
all women for eternity. I’m glad she ate that apple!
Girl power! Stupid serpent. Stupid Adam.
I don’t see anyone blaming them. Or how about God?
He created the tree.

The Bible is weird. Religion is weird.
But people believe and I guess that’s good.
I don’t know when I stopped. Maybe I never did
in the first place.

I should wash my feet. That one time in the Bible
people washed Jesus’ feet. Good for him.
I can do it myself.

Imagine one of these billboards placed in, say, Effingham, Illinois right next to the world’s biggest:

I saw multiple giant crosses while driving from Massachusetts to Arizona a couple years ago, and the sight never got less alarming. It’s like…highway, highway, tractor trailer truck, highway, blinding sun, and BAM! GIANT CROSS! My friend and I had this game going. First person to see a cactus was entitled to a free beer. First person to see a free range buffalo: beer. His ideas were all things from nature, while mine were things like, first person to see a giant, tacky thing on top of a building:

It’s a great game because no one really loses. But yeah, had I realized that there was such an abundance of giant crosses in Middle America…that would have definitely been one of my road trip drinking game items.

It’s funny because…that Darwin billboard was one of the first things I saw when I woke up this morning. (I roll over, open up my phone, check my e-mail, lament that I’ve received no e-mails, and then I click on random links provided by my mobile browser.) So I was like, WOW! Religious people are gonna freak! Then, my mom calls a little while ago and is like, “I found this poetry contest you WILL enter.” (She means business.) Then she adds, “If you want to.” She goes on to explain that it’s sponsored by the Christian Poets Guild… This so-called guild doesn’t seem to have a website, it just seems to advertise its poetry contests in small newspapers around the country, such as “The Eagle” out of Byron, TX, the “Hot Springs Village Voice” out of Arkansas, and my very own “Pennysaver” out of Western Massachusetts.

So this is suspicious. She’s suggested this contest to me before and I’ve always been like, “Yes, I’ll look into it,” when really I’m thinking, “Praise Darwin.” …Then Mom tells me that I can enter online at freecontest.com. Moms don’t tend to know these things, but a web address like that is highly questionable! It’s usually smart to avoid any URL with “free” or “contest” in it, and this one has both. If you’re brave enough to click the link, you’ll see that this contest in no way looks legit. My mom was so excited about it, though, that I might risk having my identity stolen or being sold into sex trafficking just to make her happy…

The roommate and I decided to go to church today. It seemed like a good idea–it will make the Mom happy, it’s a step towards better integrating into the community, and those hymns can be damn fun to sing along with.

Those were the general thoughts, as opposed to ones like–I need to save my soul, or, I hear Father Kirkpatrick is a real fox in his ornate robe.

Anyway, it’s a beautiful church, but I don’t think I’ll go back. Not for any one reason, but just because it didn’t feel right. I felt like I was pretending, like whatever spiritual fulfillment I’m looking for would not be reached within those walls.

The sermon was about an Air Force pilot that uses his talents to draw Jesus’ face out of exhaust smoke in the sky. I had a little difficulty understanding the priest, but it was something along those lines. So all I could think was, that’s great, but he better be doing it on his own time… But not great! Those Jesus faces are killing the planet, one greenhouse gaseous cheekbone, eyelid, nostril at a time.

"Thou shalt not steal" photos from bizarre religious websites...

Before mass ended an announcement was made by a young girl, probably in her mid-teens. She informed us that 45 million fetuses had been “murdered” since 1973 with Roe vs. Wade. And to send a message to “the new administration,” parishioners were urged to sign up for an upcoming trip to DC on a free shuttle bus to a pro-life march.

I want very much to march in DC, but not at a pro-life rally. A free shuttle bus to a protest comes along and of course it’s for a cause I disagree with. So much for a generous God. But you know, here’s the silver lining–there is a new administration on its way in. So scary zealous pilots (like John McCain) can keep scrawling their crap in the sky. But I have faith that decisions for the greater good will be scrawled where it counts.

I need to thank Jesus. Thank you for the whole manger, miracles, crucifixion thing, but THANK YOU for having me born into a family where my mom receives Predator on DVDfrom my dad and thinks it’s the best gift ever. I thought she was being sarcastic when she unwrapped it and exclaimed “PREDATOR! THANK YOU!” but no. We then proceeded to watch it and I thought, “I could be enduring some horrible, forced gathering of people who don’t like each other, but instead I’m drinking wine with crazy people who I love and listening to Arnold Schwartenegger and bad pussy jokes.”

For the record, I think Arnold Schwartenegger is a terrifying human being ever since I watched Pumping Iron. Also, the pussy jokes really are terrible (yes, I imdb’d Predator and went into Memorable Quotes just to look for the pussy jokes):

Hawkins: Hey Billy. Billy! The other day, I went up to my girlfriend, I said, “Y’know I’d like a little pussy”. She said, “Me too, mine’s as big as a house!”
[Billy stares blankly]Hawkins: See, she, she wanted a little one ’cause hers was…
[Hawkins pauses, then trails off]Hawkins: … big as a house.

Hawkins: Billy. Billy! The other day, I was going down on my girlfriend, I said to her, “Jeez you got a big pussy. Jeez you got a big pussy.” She said, “Why did you say that twice?” I said, “I didn’t.”
[Billy stares blankly]Hawkins: See, cuz of the echo.

Other highlights: receiving Abba’s greatest hits (something about that Swedish pop), and a scarf that my parents found abandoned on a railing in one of the Smithsonian museums and decided to give to me. Apparently my dad tried to take it for himself, but my mom petitioned that it be given to me with a gift tag that read “From: ?” As I tried it on she said, “Don’t worry, I washed it.”

Faith Hill’s new Christmas song is on the radio every time I go to the laundromat. It’s called “A Baby Changes Everything,” and it’s all about Mary and the Immaculate Conception and her and Joseph’s trek to the manger.

Teenage girl, much too young
Unprepared for what’s to come
A baby changes everything
…
The man she loves she’s never touched
How will she keep his trust?
A baby changes everything

My original intention was to criticize “A Baby Changes Everything.” Okay, that’s still the intent, but just for the record, I do feel a little guilty about it. This is, after all, the Biblical event that serves as the excuse for us to have drunken holiday parties, buy stuff we can’t afford, receive stuff other people couldn’t afford, drink limited time festive lattes at Starbuck’s, etc, etc. Blatant Christian messages are just jarring for the ears, even for my ears that were raised on the stuff.

Anyway, while Faith’s song doesn’t particularly put me in the holiday spirit in the same way that, say, Wham!’s “Last Christmas” (Faith Hill is almost as beautiful as George Michael), and it doesn’t get stuck in my head while at the same time making me terribly sad like John Lennon’s “Happy Christmas (War Is Over)”…it might convince teenage girls to practice abstinence. Or, they might just think (especially if they’ve received an abstinence-only “education”), fuck it…Joe the future Plumber (or carpenter, whatever) is going to think I’m a whore if I don’t let him touch me and just my luck something immaculate goes and happens.

The whole nativity thing really is a nice story, though. I love those Three Wise Men. I went as one of them to a Halloween party this year along with two friends and I taped a sign that said “I went to Bethlehem and all I got was this stupid t-shirt” to my t-shirt. That was my favorite part. Along with the fake beards and the blow-up camels pinned to our crotches. Actually, we couldn’t find camels so we used blow-up giraffes from the 99 cent store next to the strip club.

But I really am in the holiday spirit this year. Or maybe not the holiday spirit, per se. I’m happy and it happens to be the holidays, so yeah. And a snowstorm is hitting here at 9am, which is almost as exciting as being impregnated by God. (Even if I’m sleeping until 3pm these days and will miss the first round of it.)

Googling God is fun! (The blog I got this from might not appreciate my using it. But, hey, it's Christmas!)

As an unpublished blogger…(aside from the college lit magazine and an essay in a textbook about MTV’s NEXT that somehow got published even though I cited this YouTube clip:

“Molly was cool, but if I wanted to date a virgin, I’d date my mom!”
“Do you know who MY father is?”
Must be the Catholic upbringing in me, but it reduces me to teary eyed laughter.)

…so as I was saying, as a semi-unpublished blogger, I found the new Village Voice’s cover story an interesting read. Confession: usually I skip to the back for Free Will Astrology and Savage Love. Sometimes I read a few paragraphs of Musto. Confession #2: I don’t understand those really scary, animosity-filled bloggers who spend all their time criticizing things. Criticizing politicians: AWESOME. Criticizing every book or film you come upon: Why? This blog is still pretty new, but if I’m going to take the time to talk about a book or author, 9 times out of 10 it’ll be to give it a positive plug.

Maybe I’m just not angry enough. The only vaguely angry thing I’ve written in the past week was calling William Shatner terrible and Candice Bergen annoying. I get it, though. There’s a lot to be angry about. People are getting laid off, people can’t find jobs. It’s the holidays. I can’t afford my weekly ration of Charles Shaw. (That link is only 1.5 years old and already the once-called “Two-Buck Chuck” is up to $2.99+tax.) Anywho, I have nothing else to say. It’s just that it’s raining and I’m at the Internet cafe and I have a five-block walk uphill ahead of me. Maybe that’s what separates me from other bloggers: They’re angry, I’m lazy.